Fear and Trauma: Challenges to Listening and Hearing

LET ME BEGIN BY TELLING YOU A STORY OF MY FRIEND MARK. MARK was in graduate school, researching a paper on the development of blind children when he found himself recalling a distant memory about seeing.

“I don't remember having any thoughts about the event, since it happened when I was a little kid,” Mark told me. “One summer morning when I was about four and a half, I looked out the front window of our house, and there on top of the telephone pole was a big fat raccoon. I told my mother, and I guess she must have made phone calls, because later in the day a bunch of people came by to check out the raccoon, which had not moved over the course of many hours. I remember standing at the window almost all day, waiting anxiously to see what would happen to the poor, cuddly-looking, helpless raccoon that clearly needed saving.

“I know I couldn't have possibly stood there all day, but that's what I remember. By the end of the afternoon, the raccoon was still on top of the pole, but finally, to my great relief, help arrived. A huge red fire truck—a hook and ladder—showed up. It was very exciting, because they raised the ladder and a fireman went up and grabbed the raccoon and brought it down in his arms. The raccoon was finally safe.”

That was Mark's story. He was amazed that a memory that had been locked away from consciousness for so long could suddenly emerge so vividly. “It was uncanny. I could remember every aspect of that day, how cloudy and bright, how warm it was, the view of the street, even the changing light over the course of the day.”

Mark was so struck by the power of this resurfaced memory that several weeks later during a visit to his parents he told them the story. His parents listened intently, then looked at each other with a mixture of surprise, concern, and caution. An a